Princess Kaguya
by SarasimStark
Summary: Have any of you heard the story of Princess Kaguya? Here's my spin. A girl from Japan arrives in Bayville and turns everything upside down.
1. Default Chapter

Maeko breathed slowly trying to slow her heartbeat. Though the halls were deserted except for a group of lollygaggers whom didn't appear to be savory characters, she felt as though a hundred eyes were staring at her. To calm herself, she began reciting a prayer, silently in her native tongue of her beloved Japan. The familiar words, quite unlike those enigmatic English syllables, rolled off her tongue easily and calmed her. For a moment, it was like she was back home instead of standing outside of a rather crowded office, waiting for a lady in a tan business suit to come.  
  
Ms. Phillips rushed out her office, her high heels making nice little clomping noises against the cracked tile floor. "Sorry you had to wait so long," she said, "but sometimes we run into little hassles when dealing with exchange students. Papers get mixed up; you understand, right?"  
  
Maeko nodded not really understanding what she was talking about. She wished she would talk slower but Ms. Phillips seemed the type of women always full of talk and always babbling like a brook. Best thing to do in situations like this were to just let the person talk until they tire themselves. Besides letting her talk took the burden of creating conversation.  
  
She looked at her schedule. Four classes about an hour and a half long with eight minute breaks in between. Lunchtime was after second period and today's special was pizza. Thanks to the information Jonathan had given her, she already her way around school and didn't need Ms. Phillips to show her, but she let her anyway.  
  
Ms. Phillips led her to her first class: Algebra with Mr. Hearst in A102. "Wait here," she said, gesturing wildly as though she didn't understand (which she did.) Maeko watched as Ms. Phillips discussed something with the teacher. At first she tried to follow their conversation but then gave up and started daydreaming. After a few minutes, the door opened and she was led in.  
  
The classroom was small with peeling sky-blue paint and cracked, yellow windows. The desks were arranged in simple rows and seemed to stretch for miles. Was my classroom in Usa this big, she asked herself. The students were hunched over in their desks, attempting to solve the problem on the board. They paid no attention to Maeko until Mr. Hearst cleared his throat with a loud "Ahem!" Immediately every set of eyes was focused on Mr. Hearst and the girl standing next to him.  
  
Maeko felt a lump the size of an apple rise into her throat. What if they asked her to talk about her home? What if she forgot everything Jonathan had told her? She was grateful when Mr. Hearst broke the awkward silence.  
  
"Class, we have a new student. Her name is Kumiko Tanaka and she is from Yokohama, Japan," said Mr. Hearst.  
  
"Hello Kumiko," the students responded.  
  
"Miss Tanaka will you please take the seat next to Miss Pryde," said Mr. Hearst.  
  
"Yes sir," she said, grateful that he hadn't asked her to say anything. She tiptoed to the back of the classroom and took her seat. The class resumed its discussion. Maeko found herself studying the sea of faces around her. Some were big, some were small, some had blue eyes, some had green but all were remarkably like in composition.  
  
She probably wasn't going to make any friends here but that was probably for the best. Jonathan had told her to keep a low profile. She wondered what Kyoko would say. Kyoko would love the idea of going to an American school. She'd pressure her for gossip, ask her if there were any cute American boys, and beg her to bring back a bottle of American perfume. Maeko smiled as she remembered the smell of Kyoko's lilac perfume, which she wore on any occasion she could. She felt little tears of homesickness form.  
  
No, no, Maeko scolded herself. Don't think about Kyoko. You are no longer Maeko from Usa; you are Kumiko Tanaka from Yokohama. She began writing her name over and over again so she wouldn't forget. She absentmindedly drew the characters for mama, papa, and most importantly, Kyoko.  
  
Goodbye Kyoko, she thought as she marked out the little sign, I hope we meet again. 


	2. The Long Walk Home

Maeko sat in the corner trying to eat her lunch. Her plan had gone off without a hitch. Apparently Jonathan had pulled all the strings and made all the necessary phone calls to get her into school safe and sound. She was a little curious about how he had come up with the necessary information but she decided it wouldn't be smart to ask. Might jinx it.  
  
Most teachers didn't pay to much attention to her; they'd briefly introduce her to the class then go about their lesson. Mrs. Hall did ask her to tell them some Japanese so she put up a few simple words to pacify her: chiki, tama, and gangu. Perhaps this'll work out after all, Maeko thought. She made a note to write to Jonathan as soon as her homework was done.  
  
After she finished eating, Maeko pulled out her English-Japanese dictionaries and her homework and sat to work studying. Ever so often she'd come across a word she didn't understand, then she'd pause, look it up, add it to her list of English words, then continue working. Her English was getting better in part to being around English speakers and in part to all those letters she'd write to Jonathan. Jonathan didn't like her writing in Japanese; said it was lazy.  
  
Ever so often she'd hear the loud, unabashed laughter of teenagers. Throughout the day it felt as though they were laughing at her. After she'd written those words on the board, she'd heard them repeated off and on in various conversations never failing to produce titters.  
  
She supposed it was paranoia. She wasn't the only Asian girl in school and she probably wasn't the only new kid. There were probably people in this school at least twice as peculiar as her. So why did it feel like there was some great beacon focused on her nonstop, highlighting her and all her eccentricities?  
  
It wasn't her clothes. She was dressed in one of the many outfits Jonathan had purchased for her: blue jeans with a long, black top and a denim jean jacket over it. She supposed the black silk gloves she was wearing were pretty odd, but then there was some Goth girl wearing thick leather ones. Besides they made her feel safe.  
  
She finished her lunch than went to her next class: Biology.  
  
  
  
The rest of her day was a swirl of activity and talk all blending together in to a strange blur. Finally at three the bell rang letting everyone go home. Some caught the bus; others caught rides from friends and parents.  
  
Maeko was walking. It was a long walk from the school to the bus depot but she didn't mind; She was in no position to complain. She unwrapped a granola bar she'd packed in her bag for fuel and began munching on it.  
  
As she walked, her mind began reviewing the events of the day. One of her most annoying habits was how analytical she could be at time. Her mind placed everything into categories such as good-bad or pro-con. Oh well she liked to make lists: they kept everything organized.  
  
She focused, silently writing her list in her head. Pro: The Americans aren't as strict. Con: It's hard to follow their conversations: They talk so fast. Pro: For the most part, Jonathan's plan worked. Con: I can't shake the feeling people are staring at me.  
  
The loud blare of a car horn shook her out of her reverie. Maeko tried to recall items on her list but couldn't. Oh well, she thought, probably for the best; I'm already an obsessive freak.  
  
She walked on past an Albertson's where she stopped to rest for a moment, use the bathroom, and buy a bottle of water. She walked on. Cars whizzed past her, going faster than her eyes could see. Of the ones she could, she tried to make up stories about the people inside. Okay the brunette in the sea-green tank top's going to see her boyfriend whom her parents forbade her from dating. The shirtless man is a carpenter who's currently working on that building downtown. His girlfriend has a two-year-old daughter and is expecting another child. He's secretly hoping for a girl.  
  
When she finally reached the bus stop, she sat until bus 42-A arrived. She got on and rode until the bus reached the outskirts of New York City. Maeko was surprised to realize that she understood the bus announcements without having to count the number of stops. I suppose I really am learning English. Maeko hopped another bus, rode for a little bit before finally getting off at the four stop in front of one of the many red brick buildings in New York.  
  
Phillipa stood out on the stoop of apartment number 11 whistling as she waited for Maeko to arrive. She was a middle aged, black woman with tomato- coloured fingernail polish and bright eyes. Maeko liked her: her cheerfulness was contagious. "Oh Miss Kumiko," she called out, "Ya got some packages."  
  
Maeko picked up the packages, and then walked into her apartment. Scattered on the floor were various parts of The New York Times. Oh dear, Mr. McGillans must have had one of his fits again. She made a note to walk quietly around his room. She unlocked the door to her room then sat the packages on the table.  
  
Her apartment consisted of a single room containing a bed, a table, a tub, a chair, a gas stove, and a couple of cupboards containing a couple of dishes. There was no toilet; she went across the hall when she had to use the bathroom. It was small quarters but Maeko didn't complain. After what had happened back home, she wanted simplicity and had given strict orders to Jonathan regarding it.  
  
She walked over to the packages piled on the table. To Kumiko Tanaka, Apartment 11, New York City, NY 10982, posted with the proper amount of postage needed. There was a return address but Maeko knew it wasn't Jonathan's real address. She'd looked it up and found it to match a woman named Stacy Freeman living in California. When she asked Jonathan, he told her that Stacy was someone he knew from college and that her address was a go-between. She thought it kind of curious that he couldn't tell her his real address but then again there were many things Maeko didn't know about Jonathan.  
  
She unwrapped the brown packages. There were various articles of clothing, plus plenty of books about America, and a check for spending cash to be cashed at the Bank of America and used for spending money. The last package was the largest one. Maeko opened it. Out spilled a gorgeous kimono of obvious high cost. It was blue and red with figures and scenery sewn in gold.  
  
Maeko went pale. Why would Jonathan send her kimono? "I thought you wanted me to keep a low profile," she muttered. She threw the kimono to the floor and gave it a good kick. The garment lay in a heap, ruffled but still pristine. It glared at her with kind of a solemn gaze as though it were challenging her to try and destroy it.  
  
Maeko scooped the garment up off the floor, stuffed it into a paper bag, and then crammed it in the darkest corner she could think of. She snarled and muttered a few swears than undressed and went to bed. 


	3. Jonathan

Maeko kicked her locker. She had tried about thousand times to open that damn thing with no luck and the bell was about to ring. She scowled and tried again. When that didn't work, she howled and pounded the locker with such fury people stopped to stare. Finally, resigned to her fate, Maeko decided to grab her things and get to class before the bell rang.  
  
"Excuse me," said a voice from behind her.  
  
Maeko turned around. It was that redhead she'd seen early hanging with that blond jock. What was her name? Jean or Jane, some kind of J-name? Anyway she seemed nice enough, so Maeko decided for now to give her the benefit of the doubt.  
  
"You're new aren't you?" the redhead said.  
  
"Um, yeah," Maeko responded, blushing. Was it really that obvious? Well duh, you practically have new kid written all over, she thought to herself. As if that thick accent wasn't enough of a clue. "Sorry about the noise," she responded, wincing at the way her accent made every syllable sound harsh and out of place.  
  
"It's okay, I had this locker last year," the redhead responded. "It is notoriously hard to open. Do you need a hand?"  
  
"Um, sure," Maeko said. If it would get her to class and end this conversation it couldn't be all bad.  
  
The redhead reached over, turned the lock a bit, and opened the locker. Maeko almost felt like applauding but that would seem dorky. She grabbed her books and ran to class, barely taking time to mutter "Thank You" to the redhead. She scrambled into class, her sneakers squeaking against the tile. She dived into her seat just as the bell rang.  
  
Mr. Hearst applauded. "Bravo, bravo. Ms. Tanaka, I don't think I've seen such a beautiful dive. I thought only our Katherine was capable of such a stunt."  
  
The whole class applauded with Mr. Hearst. A few whistled and cheered. Both Kitty and Maeko sank into their seats. Why did teachers feel they had to be clever? It never works.  
  
Maeko finally got around to reading Jonathan's letter during lunchtime. The handwriting was smudged and smeared, quite different from his usual clean, precise script. Maeko guessed he'd dashed it off in a hurry. She made a note to start writing a letter once she got her homework done.  
  
Dear Maeko Takahashi alias Kumiko Tanaka,  
  
How are things in school? I'm assuming you ran into no trouble with the papers. If you do need any other documents, let me know.  
  
I very much appreciated your last letter but that's not why I am writing. Circumstances have risen in which I feel that your correspondence would threaten our carefully laid plans.  
  
I will continue to send Care packages and money but I'm afraid one can no longer expect to hear from me in any other form. The packages will no longer be delivered to your apartment but to a different location: you will be able to pick them up at the post office.  
  
Keep studying, work hard, and keep a low profile. If you do those things, one can apply for citizenship in a year.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Jonathan  
  
Maeko felt sick. No more letters from Jonathan? Didn't he know what this meant to her? Now she was trapped in a strange country with no one to talk to.  
  
She went and threw away her lunch. She no longer felt hungry. Uncomfortable questions swirled in her mind. What was she going to do if one of her papers didn't check out? What if she had to run to Canada? What if the INS caught her and set her back to Japan? And most importantly, why can't he write anymore? Is he in some sort of danger?  
  
"Hey," the redhead said, "would you like to sit with us?" She gestured towards a table jammed with people of all shapes and sizes. There was Katherine that girl who sat next to her in class, the guy with shades she'd seen around school. She was sad to say she could only put a name to one of them. She would have to learn the others.  
  
"No thank you," Maeko said, "I have to go to the library." She said that rather hurriedly, not carrying if she mixed up phrases or butchered syllables, then dashed off, loaded down with a backpack and her Japanese- English dictionary and phrasebooks.  
  
Maeko found herself a small, secluded corner in the library and sat to work. She decided to put that obsessively analytical mind to work and set about drawing up what her mom would call "some specifics."  
  
She opened to a clean page in her notebook and began writing.  
  
Questions  
  
Who is Jonathan?  
  
Why did he help me out?  
  
How did he find out about me?  
  
Why has he decided to stop writing to me?  
  
  
  
Obviously this was going to be quite a daunting task. Maeko decided to make a list of what she already knew to clear things up.  
  
Clues  
  
Jonathan is a male, probably the age of my parents or older, who lives in Japan or somewhere near it.  
  
Evidence: His handwriting seems very American Male, very straightforward and simple. He knows an awful lot about Japan, way more than any mere tourist.  
  
Jonathan is probably independently wealthy.  
  
Evidence: He has no problem getting a hold of anything I might need.  
  
Is definitely unmarried.  
  
Evidence: He never spoke of any wife and he seems to have an awful lot of time on his hands.  
  
Maybe he read about one of those "Miracle Child" articles they churned out about me.  
  
Evidence: Everyone in Japan seems to have read those damned things!  
  
  
  
Maeko stopped there. She needed to get to class. She'd deal with it when she got home. 


	4. Katherine

After Jonathan left, Maeko retreated even further into herself. She rarely spoke to anyone, preferring not to have anyone hear her accent. She read constantly, visiting the library and checking out new books. Her English was becoming better, mostly in part to her reading. Her lists of English words were becoming very long.  
  
The novelty of her double identity had faded. The name Kumiko Tanaka was becoming almost second nature to her. She wondered if she'd be able to remember her true name when it came time to take the citizenship test. She was doing her best to learn about the new country. She had already learned the national anthem, the pledge of allegiance, and parts of the Bill of Rights. But more baffling to her was the behaviour of the natives: It fit nothing she'd read in books.  
  
She wished in her language books they'd mentioned something about posture and slang. Some were simple enough to understand, others reflected some kind of hidden information only a native would know.  
  
She found herself running a lot more. Sometimes she'd just take off until some obstacle forced her to stop. All her dreams seemed to involve running down a long corridor. Using the money Jonathan had given her, Maeko had joined a gym and begun training more often. Most of her workout involved swimming, running, and bicycling.  
  
True to his word, Jonathan had never written her another letter. His packages were smaller, usually consisting of the latest check. Every time Maeko received a package, she marked it on her calendar and made note of it in her journal. She was searching for clues, which were few and far in between. If Jonathan was anything, he was meticulous. All she could scribble under her clues list was "Nothing so far." Oh well, she needed to get to class.  
  
Mr. Hearst was holding a test over the Pythagorean theorem. Mr. Hearst agreed to let Maeko use her language dictionaries since her grasp of the English language was not sound. She'd heard some snickering when she'd ask but she didn't care. As far as she was concerned they were pigs.  
  
She finished the test with plenty of time to spare. Didn't need to open my dictionary once, she thought. With the test done, Maeko had nothing more to do so she took out a piece of paper and began doodling. She was not particularly artistic—Kyoko had been the class artist—but she could draw halfway decent people. Sakura were the easiest for her to draw so she started there.  
  
She drew the thin curved branches that spread themselves outwards from a slender trunk like a fan. She drew little tuffs of pink blossoms that looked as delicate as cotton and like feathers in the breeze. She lost herself in her artwork and before she knew, she'd drawn a beautiful scene with a stone bench and a lovely little girl in a kimono seated on it. The girl had a shy, purposeful expression as if she had a secret concealed within.  
  
Katherine's voice broke her reverie. "Did you draw that?" she asked.  
  
Maeko felt suddenly felt very shy. Almost immediately she forgot all of her English and a deep blush arose in her cheeks. "Uh…Yeah…you like it?" she mumbled.  
  
"Yeah, it's really pretty. I wish I had talent like that."  
  
"Thank you." Now that the conversation was back in Katherine's court, maybe Maeko could plan what to say next so she won't sound like Tarzan. (Me Tarzan, you Jane.)  
  
Katherine blinked, not at all surprised to find the ball back in her court. She paused, and then gave her response. "Hey Kumiko, I was wondering if you'd be interested in eating lunch with me and my friends? You must be so lonely, sitting by yourself every day."  
  
Maeko could feel a lump the size of Iwo Jima build in her throat. She choked, trying to swallow it back so she could respond. She could hear all her carefully laid schemes crumble to dust. Jonathan would be very displeased, assuming he still cared. Her mind immediately created an invisible list of pros and cons. If she said no, she'd hurt Katherine's feelings and look very odd all at once. Of course someone's bound to notice you hadn't made any friends, she scolded. If she said yes, who knew what would happen next? Ships could sink, stocks could fall, and she could say something stupid that would end in her banishment.  
  
Then again, Jonathan had never said any against making friends: he'd only warned her to be careful. Besides he never wrote to her anymore so how could he find out about anything she did? Maeko made her decision: she'd give Katherine a chance. "Yes, I would be happy to join you for lunch."  
  
Maeko smiled. Somehow she sensed this was the beginning of new things.  
  
  
  
Lunchtime rolled around soon enough. Kids fragmented into various herds and went to their stomping ground. Maeko wove in and out of the crowd, trying to get a clear look at the tables. Katherine had told her their table was the long one on the far right-hand side. "Not very helpful," She mused.  
  
The cafeteria was a brewing pot of students of all sorts of grades, backgrounds, and status. The popular girls strolled to the center table, walking in perfect sync with one another. Maeko couldn't help but wonder if they even breathed in sync. In a corner that seemed perpetually shrouded in cobwebs no matter how hard the janitor cleaned, the Goths slouched in their seats whilst delivering their passionate sermons on the beauty of life.  
  
Some tables were as homogenous as the next: boys chatting and/or playing cards; girls yammering. At one table, she saw those same characters she'd seen looming around the vending machines on her first day: the scruffy brown-haired guy, the white-haired guy, and that little one whom seemed perpetually hunched over.  
  
Finally she found the table. Katherine, a dark-haired boy, a boy with shades, and that redhead who'd helped her with her locker, were busy chatting.  
  
Katherine looked up from her lunch. "Hey, you found us all right," she said. She turned to her friends. "This is the girl I was telling you about: Kumiko Tanaka. I hope you don't mind if she sits with us."  
  
The general consensus was: "Sure, go ahead." Maeko slid into the seat nearest to Katherine. It would look rude if she were to take the seat furthest from her and her friends.  
  
Katherine began pointing at her friends and introducing them. Kurt was the dark-haired boy, Scott was the boy with shades, and Jean was the name of that redhead. Maeko repeated the names back at her, trying to make sure she pronounced them right. It looked very good in the eyes of the Americans if you could say their names right.  
  
"Thank you for introducing me, Katherine-san," Maeko said. She blushed, not only at her formal speech but also at the bit of Japanese she added at the end.  
  
Katherine didn't seem to mind this in the least. "You're welcome, but could you please call me Kitty? Katherine is so formal."  
  
"Kitty," Maeko repeated. The brown-haired girl smiled at her and Maeko felt a little more relaxed.  
  
Lunchtime came and went too soon for Maeko. Despite all her worries, she'd found herself enjoying the company of those Americans. When the lunch bell rang again, she wanted to ask if it was all right if she ate lunch with them again, but that would sound dorky and desperate. Besides somehow she sensed it was okay.  
  
I think things are going to be different from now on, Maeko thought. 


End file.
